


Light Extinguished

by gimmefire



Category: Formula 1 RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-07-18
Updated: 2010-07-18
Packaged: 2017-12-03 17:08:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,102
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/700657
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gimmefire/pseuds/gimmefire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hungary 2010. <i>"You know how people go to graveyards or memorials and they say that they can feel a presence there?"</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Light Extinguished

**Author's Note:**

> Beta by [evaine](http://archiveofourown.org/users/evaine). Thankfully AU. Implication of character death. This was an easy one to write but a hard one to deal with.

_31st July, 2010._

Rob closed his leather-bound folder and slotted it away in his bag. Post-qualifying debrief complete, the room slowly emptied around him, chairs scraping and murmured conversations beginning between the team members as they headed for the door. He caught Chris's eye and tilted his head in the direction of the track. The Australian took a moment to catch on, but eventually he nodded.

"D'you want me to tell Stefano?"

"Nah," Rob replied, adding as an afterthought, "If he asks, tell him. Don't want to be an arsehole about it, but I'd rather not have anybody..." He trailed off. "Y'know."

Chris nodded again, squeezed Rob's shoulder, and left him alone with his thoughts. After a while, he murmured "Right," and pulled himself to his feet.

\------------------------------------

"You know how people go to graveyards or memorials and they say that they can feel a presence there?"

No reply came. Rob sat by himself, back pressed to the green-painted tyre wall, absently sweeping away the grit and dirt on the runoff area beside him with the back of his hand. His bike lay a few feet away. The sun had set and the track was quiet and still in the dying light.

"Some people say they can feel a person there, or what they think of as a person," he continued quietly. "I think Jackie Stewart says that he sees his old friends now and then, hears from them that they're doing alright wherever they are, y'know."

He fell silent for a while. The distant hum of vehicles and generators drifted across from the paddock and surrounding roads.

"I wish I could say the same thing."

It had been just over a year. Despite reminders from the media at the last race in the form of an increase in interviews and general attention, it hadn't really hit home until they had returned to the Hungaroring.

Just over a year.

Rob shook his head, lifting his gaze to take in the runoff area stretched out before him and the darkened tarmac of the slowly sloping track beyond it. Turn four. It didn't take too much thought to visualise the two long-gone black streaks of rubber leading directly towards him. "I don't see you out of the corner of my eye. I don't think I hear your voice in the garage by mistake. I don't feel like you might be looking over my shoulder on the pitwall. I don't feel a presence anywhere. Not anywhere." He exhaled, the sound somewhere between a laugh and a sigh. "Christ, I don't even dream about you anymore. You're just gone."

The quietness was genuinely painful; whether it was simply an acute awareness of the sound of activity in the faraway paddock or because he was straining to hear a voice that wasn't there, he didn't know. He shifted slightly, drew his legs up and rubbed his thighs, numbness beginning to creep into the muscles in his lower body. He wasn't sure how long he'd been sat there, though pinpricks of starlight were appearing in the cloudless sky.

His chest hurt. It hadn't stopped hurting for a long time. He crossed his arms tightly, fingers digging into his skin. "I miss you," he mumbled. Then words spilled from him, louder, scored with anger and frustration and fear, speaking of a wound which had not even begun to heal and felt as though it never would. "I miss you and I love you and you're my best mate and my little brother, but you're _more_ than that, much more, whether you really knew it or not, and if I can't see you or feel you or anything like that then all I've got are memories, and they will fade...and I can't stand the thought of that. I cannot stand that at all.

"I can't even remember the last thing you said to me! How useless is that?" he laughed in mild disgust at himself, disbelief leaking into his wavering voice. "If I'd known it was gonna be so important, I'd have written it down! 'Who is ahead of me on track' or something daft like that, y'know?" he laughed again, not a wisp of amusement in him. His weak smile faded fast and he raised blue eyes skywards, blinking to clear his blurring vision.

"If I could just know for sure that you're alright, that you weren't scared, that it didn't-it didn't hurt too much, y'know. If you could just let me know that I don't need to keep worrying about you and I don't need to keep wondering...that'd be really good. Really, really good, mate."

He waited. His heart beat a little faster – the thrum of hope and quiet desperation – and he waited.

Eventually, when all that answered him was an empty sky, his gaze dropped away. That beat, that dim light of hope within him faded into the darkness as quickly as it had appeared.

"I miss you with all my bloody heart and sometimes I wish...I dunno. I wish for lots of things." His voice grew softer as he uncrossed his arms slightly to rest a hand over the small Brazilian flag hand-stitched to the sleeve of his team shirt. "I wish for too much."

Gathering that little flag into the palm of his hand and squeezing it tightly in a clenched fist, Rob let his head drop and exhaled slowly. With his free hand he rubbed the tears from his eyes until the breath caught in his throat and restraint deserted him. Quietly, he wept.

\------------------------------------

The sky was completely dark by the time Rob pulled his wrung out, stiff body upright. Scrubbing a hand across his face – puffy eyes, the scratch of stubble, skin feeling worn – he stretched tiredly, wincing as muscles came back to life and not particularly looking forward to the slow cycle back to the pits.

"Right," he murmured to himself, sniffing and looking up at the stars once again. "I'm still gonna listen for you. If you ever need to talk or need a hug or anything, I'm always gonna be here. Always, always, _always_ gonna be here. Alright?"

He would come back to this spot again next year, and the year after that, he had already promised himself as much. Every year whilst he still had breath in his body. Every year until he had the answers he sought.

A faint, wistful smile touched his lips, his assurances renewing a spark of hope within him, and he raised his voice to a near shout. At the very least, he would make sure Felipe heard him.

" _I miss you!_ "


End file.
